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Stay Cool

A biologist finds an unmarked box on his doorstep.

By Skyler SaundersPublished about a year ago 4 min read
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Stay Cool
Photo by Jason Richard on Unsplash

Oppressive August heat in Newark, Delaware was like a blast from a foundry. The grid had collapsed and the news issued all kinds of warnings especially for the very young and the senior citizens. The populace of the college town and the suburbs found all sorts of alternatives to conquer the high temperatures. People overcrowded pools and made their way to the Dover, Delaware beaches.

That’s why I was surprised that I would even receive a package on my doorstep at ninety-six degrees Fahrenheit at ten o’clock in the morning. I just figured mail and other delivery people would take the week off for the heat. Still, I got my mail and the box. I did notice a sizeable drone floating away like a leaf on the wind, however. I guessed that that was the best alternative.

The box was 12x12x12 in dimensions. I brought it to the table and opened it. A shower of packing peanuts popped out like Styrofoam confetti. I beheld the object small enough to fit in both arms. It was black with flecks of gray. My curiosity increased. The thing looked like a car engine. It had valves and wires and muscle like metal parts, but somehow still light weight.

I dug through the packaging peanuts to discover a small manual. I read it. It turned out, the machine could not only power a house but several houses. On top of that, it could heat and cool them as well without using conventional electric sources. The latter, of course, would be ideal now.

I read further. The manual outlined a business plan to set up a corporation in Wilmington, Delaware. I took into account the fact that my biology degree from Delaware Institute of Technology (DIT) didn’t help with engineering a hydrogen machine or running a business.

I did, however, have friends to contact. I got on WhatsApp and reached out to a buddy of mine from college.

“Logan Malley!” I exclaimed.

“Hey, Mann.”

“Okay. I know you’re trying to beat the heat in Newark. It’s just the opposite here in Alaska.”

“How’re you doing out there?”

“I’m faring well. What’s up?” Malley asked.

“I called you for a business proposition. I received a mysterious package with this hydrogen contraption this morning and I’ve been called upon via a letter to start a business. I want you as the CEO. You can develop the c-suite. I’ll find the talent to develop the engineering base.”

“That sounds great. I just can’t drop everything and do this, however. Sorry.”

“No, I understand,” Mann Nottingham replied.

“Again, sorry.”

“Be well.”

After I stopped my correspondence with Logan, I then just read the instructions again and figured that I could do this. I could actually discover who this scientist and inventor by the name of Fredro Moretti, a product of a Foundational Black American (FBA) woman and an Italian man, beamed with his arms folded. He had personally singled me out as a fellow faculty member at DIT.

Although we had never met, his presence was felt in those halls. He must’ve kept the machine under wraps and never spoke of it to a soul. Now, it was in my possession. I had the access to the controls, but could I fly this plane into the air?

I hooked up the machine to my house’s system. It was beautiful. Air flowed through the vents so I could stay cool. Immediately, I contacted my lawyers and accountants. Moretti had left instructions on how to make an infrastructure for building the devices. My lawyer Joel Stackhouse picked up the phone.

“Mann Nottingham! What do we have sir?”

“I wanted to get your perspective on a new device I have. The patents and everything have been handed over to me.”

“I’m not a patent lawyer but I can forward you a list of great attorneys who could help you with all of this.”

“I’d appreciate it,” I replied.

“Anytime.”

I then called my accountant Chris Cudgel.

“Hey, Chris.”

“Mann, my main man. What’s on your mind?”

“I’m going to need some of your expertise. I’m going to make a significant amount of money.”

“What’d you hit the lottery? I know biologists don’t usually get paid ‘significant’ sums.”

“It’s not that. I just received a package with an inventor’s notes on how to best implement it. With this heat, it’s going to be a game-changer. I know it.”

“Okay, Mann. If this is a get quick rich scheme—”

“This is not that.”

“Okay. We can set up a tax structure because you will be moving up through the brackets.”

“Thanks, Chris.”

“You got it, Mann!”

I cleaned up the mess in my kitchen and then placed the machine back in the box. Then, a ring came to the door.

I answered it. Two men in sharp black suits and impeccable shoes.

“I’m agent Troutman Munch and this is Agent Braden Borstein. We’re from the United States government. We're looking for a device delivered to this address. Where is it?”

I reached for my shotgun behind the door and held out in front of them without brandishing it. “You want what? This machine was given to me as not just any gift but as a revolution in engineering and business. You have no warrant or reason to be here. Please get off of my property.”

The agents retreated and headed to their car.

I felt a sense of satisfaction and restored my shotgun to its place behind the door. I poured a glass of whiskey and water in the early afternoon. The coolness of the machine combined with the liquor allowed me to think even more about the events of the past few hours and about the future.

Mystery
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Skyler Saunders

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